


The Blossoming...

by ablindromance



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3412751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ablindromance/pseuds/ablindromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyo has a sleepless night and heads to the studio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blossoming...

Restlessness brought him here. It was the immovable wall that stood in the way of peace. Sound sleep rarely found him, but tonight the lack of it was smothering. The air had been thick with so many emotions that wove into one another like a disastrous tapestry. News reports of the tragedy in the Tohoku region were fed into his subconscious mind as he lay with his eyes closed. Endless broadcasts flooded television channels in the daytime, repeating the same coverage of damage and lost lives. Even now, weeks after the tsunami and earthquake, neither ear nor eye could be turned from the reality of Japan's agony. The strength of the Japanese people to stand with quiet dignity and to recover was a noble one, but there was still turmoil in their somber smiles. The sentiments of fear, loathing, sympathy, and sadness were the voiceless kinship that now knit them together. 

Kyo was particularly sensitive to these downplayed emotions. He took them upon himself and carried for the people these sleepless nights and frustrating days. Even DIR EN GREY as a whole began to suffer. In trying to avoid trivial things, it was trivial things that ignited spats. The stress about the well-being of families sat like lead in their stomachs. If the family was well --thankfully all relatives and friends were-- it was the uncertainty of work that ravaged their minds.

They shouldn't have continued. There was no time, no point, and no purpose to keep the doors to the studio open when electricity was already drastically rationed. Who would listen to music, much less spare the money for production, when a part of their beloved nation was dead or dying? Who had the time or resources to foot the cost of operation in a suffering country?

With split opinions on the matter, they fought among themselves and management. They fought producers ans tour managers. They fought their own will. And still Kyo found that potential threat to stop all activity and used it as inspiration; it was his hope. Even if no note left his mouth or a single lyric was put to paper, the studio was his sanctuary and there he would go. He would speak for the people somehow. 

Much to his surprise, the doors were open when he got there. 

Stripped of his coat and hat, he quietly moved about the darkened building. Following the only source of light to a room he knew all too well, his boots were left by the entrance next to a pair he also recognized. From the open door he saw Kaoru's sinister form.

His back was to Kyo, hunched over a black guitar. His relatively short fingers skated over a number of frets and plucked out a run of flat notes that sounded much more full of life through the headphones he was wearing.

He looked like a looming shadow, dressed in dusty black jeans, black socks, a black quarter-length v-neck, and those long, curly locks of hair that fell messily over his shoulders.

Always black. Kaoru never possessed the most exciting fashion sense, but he had even less at three a.m.

He sat before the console of a hundred buttons and Kyo judged that he was listening to a layered track the band had put together but not finalized. It was one of a few pieces, untitled, unfinished, and without lyrics. After the heated exchange of words between Kaoru and Die earlier that afternoon, it lay untouched for the rest of the day. The former red-head stormed off in a mood and decided to drink the rest of the day, leaving the others with no room to progress with composition. His input was needed, Kyo hadn't arrived until just after he sulked out, Toshiya was moved to indifference, and Shinya had already recorded his portion long ago. It seemed the tension was relived all over again when Kaoru peeled off the headphones with a curse and let them hang around his neck.

"Shit..." He set his guitar aside and rubbed tired eyes with a sigh. Resigned, he folded his hands behind his head and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. It was then that he heard Kyo softly drop his keys onto the table. 

"You're here late, Kaoru."

"You're here early for a change," Kaoru laughed shortly. 

The vocalist came to lean against the mixing console beside him and crossed his arms. It was here that he noticed a dozen papers scattered about with written notes that he couldn't make sense of unless they were played. Kaoru turned off the sound so he could better hear. In an unthinking gesture, he lit a cigarette and moved to the leather sofa across the room out of consideration for Kyo's respiratory health. 

"Have you come up with anything?" Kyo asked, still looking over the papers. 

"Not much since this afternoon. Little things here and there, but I can't harmonize the riffs without that fucking princess's input. Haven't talked to him since he bailed earlier. Have you?"

"No," Kyo said with a shake of his head. "Maybe a little later today, after he's had time to cool off."

"Hm." Kaoru took another drag from his cigarette, dismissing the idea of his fellow guitarist. Though he seemed not to care, Kyo knew better. The man was exhausted and worn to the bone. No one had gone more up to bat about continuing production than Kaoru. He was the voice, or strongest of the five, that insisted they carry on with their vision for the album and be supported as they did so. Every draining meetings with executives, every case of in-fighting, every black out, and every warning not to lyrically criticize the government's response to the disaster, Kaoru was there. 

He was always there, even before DIR EN GREY was what they were now. 

Kyo never ignored that fact. Although his word and health perpetually dictated what direction DIR EN GREY would take, it was to Kaoru whom he gave all the power. The older man was always a source of vivacity and drive from which Kyo fed. His was a limitless pool, and yet now Kyo thought he was catching a glimpse of the bottom. Kaoru noticed him staring. 

"What's on your mind, Kyo? Couldn't sleep again so you decided to come here?"

Kyo nodded, stooping to produce a half-bottle of Bourbon and a glass from deep within a file cabinet beneath the console. He knew it had always been there while Kaoru thought he'd found the most spectacular hiding place for it. Only _this_ guitarist would bother to drink something that tasted like the Devil's piss; Die, meanwhile, was currently developing a taste for wine. Kyo poured him a drink.

"It's been stressful, hasn't it? Do you think we should stop?"

"Nah. Why stop now? Somebody has to say something even when everyone else is biting their tongues or telling us 'no.' If a door closes, knock it down." Kaoru sucked on his cigarette and set it aside, too tired to be embarrassed about his alcohol stash being discovered. Fingers closed around the short, broad glass and he nursed its contents. 

"So the old man still has some life in him."

Kaoru laughed and Kyo was at ease to see his tension give a bit. He needn't say much else, for he and Kaoru had the ability to converse in body language and complete silence. There were short exchanges before he left Kaoru to drink while he went to listen to the composed piece. Little inspiration came from the gesture and after a frustrating forty-five minutes in the booth, he took a break.

When he found the other, he saw lanky shoulders slouched over the arm of the couch. Kaoru was asleep, a couple of cigarette butts in the nearby ashtray and the bottle nearly empty. He didn't care much for alcohol but he took the last mouthful of whiskey for himself with a begrudging swallow. Just how could Kaoru stomach such tasteless shit as this?

He looked more like a beer man. Then again, Kaoru's looks changed with however he groomed himself. He could be five different people with or without a mustache, long or short hair, curly or straight, glasses or no glasses... No matter what man he was at the time, Kyo always saw him as a strong, leader-type. He conducted business with a sharpness, yet he was still childishly Gundam-crazed and had a typical sense of humor. Despite his extremes of character, Kaoru was very human. The devil inside of him slept as he did now, tamed by the chaos of the world and the length of the day. 

Kyo knew that devil was there. It was the agitator crawling beneath Kaoru's tattooed skin. It was locked inside of the guitarist's rib cage and contained in his thin frame. The body looked too fragile to house such a powerful force. It was that contrast that Kyo applied to himself. Over the years he'd built up his body to protect the weakness in his spirit while Kaoru remained solid and unyielding in both. It was difficult to discern where sympathy for the older man's extreme fatigue ended and where Kyo's need to extract the energy from the tempered demon inside him began. The two extremes were linked by the vocalist's desire to show gratitude for Kaoru's leadership that often pushed DIR EN GREY through trying times. 

He stood over the sleeping man. Long fingers pulled dark hair from his cheeks and pinned it behind his ear. Kaoru didn't stir. His lips were inaccessible; it didn't matter because this was not romance. Instead Kyo dropped to his knees and pushed Kaoru's thighs apart. His zipper was dragged down its track, making room for two digits to slip inside the gap of fabric. 

Sensations were fed into Kaoru's brain, body waking him with an eagerness his mind wasn't prepared for. He stared down to see the top of Kyo's bowed head and inked fingers lightly stroking the red material of his boxers between a fully opened fly. His dick was half hard, caring less for gender and more for touch. Shock overcame him as he sat up and pulled Kyo's hand away by the wrist. 

"Stop." 

The command was firm but gentle as he tried to make sense of Kyo's expression. It read neither shame nor disappointment for being caught. In fact it caused Kaoru's heart to race with blunt alarm. "I'm not that drunk," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Kyo rose and lingered at eye level. Gaze even, he turned it to the demon and summoned it. Kaoru studied him in return and wondered just what is was that compelled him to not look away. 

Neither spoke. Kyo's lips found his, insistent, and pressed hard enough to drive blood from the surface of thin skin. The guitarist pressed back as if possessed and sought the softer innards of Kyo's mouth. 

Had stress surmounted to this? Had his quiet reserve finally reached the breaking point to which he participated in this taboo? Kyo's weight settled back into a palm that coaxed blood further into Kaoru's manhood. One way or another, he would seize the demon inside of the man. 

The exploration of tongues was tentative, testing boundaries and the will of beast and man. Kaoru traded strokes, goaded into chasing the very breath in Kyo's throat until it tumbled against his own tiers. Gentle smacks between their mouths were amplified in the silence with only the squeak of leather and rustle of clothing to accompany them. 

Agitating the creature, Kyo sank his teeth into Kaoru's lower lip in a threat to draw blood. Reprimand came with a hand grabbing the back of his neck as Kaoru pulled away. He licked his lips and caught his breath from the dizzying kiss. In the moment of recovery, Kyo wrenched himself away from the hand and sank to his knees again. He would not be stopped. 

The vocalist freed Kaoru's length and watched it come alive above the waistband of his underwear. Sparing the other the embarrassment of exposure, plush lips laid kisses up the shaft and down its firm underside. Relieving Kaoru of potential skin-on-skin friction, a wet tongue darted out to lay broad, flat licks to the erected flesh. Kyo's breath was warm but his saliva was cool to the touch. Kaoru's body was on fire, a flame rising to incinerate the very tongue that fanned it. 

Drunk from Kyo's intent and the offending mouth taking him in, Kaoru could only stare in indecision. What could he do? What _should_ he do? His carnal mind convinced him to allow this while his morality insisted he stop it. His will was slain and lay bleeding as he watched Kyo's lashes flutter shut while his mouth gracefully opened. The pink of lip and tongue married the head of his cock and enveloped him in a welcoming fire. The exhalation of defeat left his chest and he lay back into the leather cushions.

Though Kyo was aware of the man, it was the looming presence inside of him that placed its talons atop his dark hair. The devil praised him, found him worthy of awakening it from its slumber. On bent knee Kyo would exalt his infallible leader. The pulsing heat he took into his mouth filled him and he gave worship by squeezing its base for a harder suck.

The devil growled, fisting black hair and ushering its sex to the roof of Kyo's mouth. Fleshy ridges accepted the added pressure and rolled a skilled tongue beneath its crown, beckoning:

_Come hither, come hither.  
Come hither, come hither, my master._

A bead of salt melted onto Kyo's taste buds. That was the beginning of spiritual transfer. His cheeks hallowed and sucked the serpentine invader into the inflamed folds of his throat. With each swallow, the tattered silk caressed the spout from which Kyo drank. His lips rolled over the length, seducing it with deep bobs of his head and a rumbling purr from his chest. 

Kyo salivated his sympathy for the devil; such a lonely creature, shunned by the Heaven from which it was cast out. An immortal monster with no one to share a meal. Unwanted, without leathery wings to embrace it through eternal night. Desolation was the prize for its Hellish form. Still, the devil felt no sympathy for itself and came to accept its fate. 

Live alone. Dine alone. Die alone. 

But this evening Kyo shared in its torment. Incantations upon his lips, he loved the beast with inhuman passion. He violently suckled its energy, milking strength from despair and feeling the two separate like oil upon water. The devil was eager for fellowship. Steady thrusts drove into Kyo's mouth, possessing the worshiper like the spoils of battle. Kyo would be stripped of his flesh and his bones erected in gratitude for the intimacy of this night. 

_Faster, faster_ , plunder the soul that dares to couple a demon. 

Kyo was triumphant. Kaoru gasped as his seed poured into the waiting vessel. A cupped tongue received the gift and delivered it with a swallow.

Kyo was renewed. 

Leaving Kaoru to reel from the high and letting the demon settle, he stood. His thumb swiped the corners of his mouth and, with his new-found inspiration from the pit of Hell, sat before the mixing board to title the current lyricless piece:

"The Blossoming Beelzebub."


End file.
